iSee A Ghost
by FallenSnowman
Summary: "I hold his hand all the way to the hospital." Something's happened to Freddie and he's not coming back. At least, that's what Sam thinks... Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: iCarly is not mine...**

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><p>We've always been friends, Freddie and me, but it's always been a lot more complicated than just being able to say "that's my friend Freddie". In fact, if I was introducing Freddie to somebody, I'd be more likely to say: "this is Fredweird. If you were thinking he smells like dork, then you'd be right. Oh, and Freddork? I hate you. And Carly will never love you."<p>

Carly's my best friend. She's also the girl that Frednub is 'in love' with. They even dated once, for about a week, but then he broke up with her. Yeah… I was confused too, but the mind of Freddie works in mysterious ways and he had just been hit by a taco truck. Even so, it made me strangely happy that they were no longer boyfriend and girlfriend, which I assume is down to the fact I don't feel like a third wheel anymore.

It's Sunday, and Fredloser and I are on our way home from school. Carly has an after school club (knitting or something unnatural like that) so I'm stuck with the nub. He looks even more annoying that usual today, something about the way he's parted his hair, or the smug expression on his face that I can't read.

"So, Sam…" he breaks the silence slowly, waiting for me to react.

I glare at him and he winces nervously, but doesn't run away like he would have done when we were thirteen (we're sixteen now and age has been kind to Freddie – he's now nearly six foot, whilst I'm only 5'5" – though I would never tell him that). "So?" I ask, pleased I still scare him after so long. He knows by now I'm not gonna hurt him… enough to cause him any long-term damage.

"Are you going to tell me why you and Carls are being so secretive?" He smiles, relaxing into the conversation and it makes me nervous to see how confident he's acting, now he's sure I'm not going to bite his head off.

"Nope," I say, smirking. What Freddork doesn't know is that Carly and I have been planning a surprise birthday party for his seventeenth for weeks now and I am determined to make it the awesomest party there has ever been. It was my idea, but naturally Carly's doing all the work. I have no idea why I want Fredweird's birthday to be so special, but it gives me something to do and an excuse to get away from home – Mom's being even more Mom-ish than normal, which means smashed wine glasses everywhere, weird smells that are probably illegal and a newer, creepier guy each night.

Freddie laughs. "Am I ever going to find out?"

I pretend to consider it, biting my lip and smiling mysteriously at him. After a long pause, I say, "Maybe."

He laughs again. "I might just have to find a way to get it out of you by myself then,' he tells me, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Not gonna happen," I say in return, hoping that he won't do the one thing he's always been able to do to get me to do anything he wants. Not that he knows it has that effect on me (I don't know why it does, it just does!) but he still manages to use it a hell of a lot of the time.

He grins wickedly and I know he's gonna do it. "Sam," he starts and I groan inwardly. He looks at me seriously, his chocolate brown eyes burning into my blue ones. Then he says it, "Please, for me?"

_Damn._

It's what Carly's always done to get Freddork do something for he, because he luurves her. A few months ago, Freddie tried it on me as a joke (I think), to get me to give him a slice of ham, and for some unexplainable reason, I caved.

I can feel my face going red as I try to stop myself telling him. It should be easy, but it's a lot harder than it sounds to resist his stupid nubbishness. "You'll find out, ok?" I sigh. "But I'm not gonna tell you 'til I have to."

"Ok," he says, satisfied.

"We're nearly at Bushwell," I comment, noticing that we've just passed the Groovy Smoothie. "Mind if I hang at your place until Carly's home? I don't want to–" I pause. Even though Freddie knows all about my mom and what she's like, I'm still way less comfortable talking to him about it than I am with Carly. "I don't want to have to see my mom," I finally admit and he nods understandingly, giving my hand a comforting squeeze which I'd normally punch him for, but I actually find quite… well, nice.

"That's fine," he says.

I nod. I'm kind of glad I have Freddie as a friend, in a weird way. Without him, I'd never have passed all my exams (no, he didn't tutor me, I cheated off him, which he still doesn't know about) and I'd probably still be in juvie (he bailed me out 'cause Mom didn't give a s*** and Carly was on holiday).

"But hey, can we just stop at the Pear store?" he asks, excitedly pointing through the window of his favourite shop in town. "They have this really cool new PearPod and…" I zoned out as he started going all techy on me. My brain is precious to me and I don't want to contaminate it with dork-vibes.

I tell him this and he frowns at me.

"Sam, I thought you agreed you weren't insulting me this week," he says sternly.

"No, you bet me I couldn't, I told you I wasn't making the same mistake twice and then you gave me a wheelbarrow of ham," I correct him. "Seriously, I'm never doing that again. Never insulting you is like… never eating ham." I shudder at this thought.

"But after I gave you the ham, you agreed…" Freddie begins, but then he sighs in defeat and drags me into the store. "Never mind, I can't be bothered to argue with you. I'm gonna get the new PearPod, so come on."

I groan and start going on about how dorky he's being and by the time I'm finished with my moaning, he's already bought it and is dragging me out the store again and onto the busy Seattle street.

"You were ages," I tell him. "I bet Carly's already back by now and wondering where we are. She'll be pissed if we don't hurry up. Stop walking so slowly!" I give him a push and he stumbles forwards, knocking into an angry-looking woman and falling onto the sidewalk while I roll around laughing, nearly in tears.

"Sam," he says, annoyed and I feel his hand brush against my cheek as he comes over to me. When I finally manage to look up at him it only sets me off again and I clutch at my sides trying to stifle my giggles.

Fredfreak starts to walk away, shaking his head at me and reminding me of his mother, which makes it even harder for me to stop laughing. He's still staring at me when he reaches the crossing and I stand up walking towards him.

Then it's like one of those movies, where everything goes into slow motion. Not actual slow motion – things still feel normal time-wise – but I realise what's going to happen and my legs can't propel me forwards fast enough to do something about it.

Freddie steps out into the traffic, his head down now but I can see his glare burning into the ground, probably directed at me. The light's red, but a silver car pushes through it anyway and before I can scream at Freddie to move, there a skidding noise and the next thing I know, there's a crowd of people around something and a tangle of cars right in front of me.

I push through the people, my heart beating irrationally fast.

_No, Freddie, no! Stop it, Sam, you've got to be wrong. He got out the way of the car and it's somebody else. There were other people crossing the road with him, right? Yeah, he was closer to the car, but it's Freddie, he can't be…_

That's when I see him. He's curled up on the ground and he could be sleeping if it weren't for the deep gash on his forehead that's dripping blood onto the concrete ground as I watch in horror.

It takes me a second to break out of the daze I'm in, but when I do I run over to him and throw my arms around his lifeless – no, it had to be unconscious! – body, sobbing into his stupid t-shirt. I press my hand against his chest, but I can't feel anything – no comforting thumping that signifies his heartbeat. I can always feel it when he's around me and now it's gone.

"Freddie! Freddie! No!" He's not dead, I tell myself. His heartbeat will come back.

People are giving me sympathetic looks but I ignore them. All I can do is cling onto Freddie like if I let go he'll slip away, and listen to the sound of the approaching ambulance.

Rough, firm hands take him away from me and I scream and scream, no longer making any sense. This is so much worse than when he was hit by the taco truck and I don't even know why, but something is telling me that there is something very wrong.

"Are you his friend?" somebody asks.

I can only nod, too focused on finding Freddie again. He's in the back of the ambulance and I jump in too, sitting down beside him and holding his hand. I don't care if they tell me to get off, I'm not leaving him.

Nobody does, so I hold his hand all the way to the hospital.

He looks so peaceful. His face is pale and his eyes are shut delicately, and I hope that he's not in any pain. I wonder if he can hear me.

"Freddie," I sob and for a while that's the only thing I _can_ say. "I'm gonna be seriously pissed if you don't wake up." I sigh heavily, my eyes watering with tears, but I blink them away because if I cry, it's like I'm giving up hope. "Life's so unfair. You survived one crash, why can't that just be it? You're gonna survive this one too, Freddie, I promise. If you don't… I'll kill you." I try to smile but it comes out all wobbly so I stop trying. "Me and Carls were gonna throw you a surprise birthday party, for your seventeenth. That was the secret you were trying to get out of me when we were…" I trail off, wishing we'd stayed in the Pear store one minute longer, or I'd been there to pull him out of the way… "I know I tell you I hate you almost every day and that Carly will never love you but… I don't hate you Freddie, you're my best friend." He was gonna wake up any second and laugh at me for being so gullible, like I would have done with him. He _had _to. "You can't die now, when you've still got so much you have to do, like make Carly love you. You want that, right?" I winced at the thought of them together, but then I thought of Freddie dead and realised I'd give anything for him to wake up. "Freddie, please you have so many people who love you. Do you really want to be responsible for all those people being sad? Your crazy mom loves you, Carly loves you, Spencer loves you… I love you, so please wake up for us!"

A nurse comes in and I realise we're at the hospital now. Freddie is taken away from me yet again and I begin to really cry now as I sit in the waiting room. Waiting room, it's such a stupid name. Does anybody really need to be reminded that they are waiting? It should be "pretending you're dreaming" room.

My mobile phone begins to ring and I look down to see it's Carly. I pick up and hold it to my ear, no longer crying but still shaking uncontrollably.

"Sam? Where the hell are you and Freddie? You were meant to be back an hour ago and Mrs Benson just ran out into the hall screaming, threw her phone at my head and charged into the elevator," she babbles, sounding a mix of worried, annoyed and confused.

I give a heavy sob and she gasps.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"F-Freddie," I say, because I can't say anything else.

Carly's voice is getting higher and higher as she panics. "What's happened to Freddie?"

"C-car… Ambulance," I choke out.

"Freddie's been knocked down?" Carly shrieks, understanding what I was trying to say.

Finally, I find my voice. "There was s-so much blood." I'm crying again now and I don't even care that people can see me and are staring. "I can't see him, I'm at the hospital and they took him into a room and nobody will tell me anything. Carly, I–"

"I'm coming," she says, understanding what I'm trying to say.

"Thanks," I say weakly.

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><p>Carly and Spencer arrive at the hospital ten minutes later, after Freddie's mom has run screaming through the room and out of sight, and the first thing Carly does when they enter the waiting room is give me a bone-crushing hug. Spencer sinks into the chair next to her and stares blankly at the wall.<p>

"He's convinced he's dreaming," Carly tells me between sobs.

We sit there next to each other, bawling our eyes out until I'm pretty convinced I should have run out of tears. It was nothing like this when he was hit by the truck; we were told that it was only a broken leg almost immediately and allowed to see him pretty quickly.

"Do you think he's ok?" Carly asks.

I shiver. "He has to be," I whisper.

She nods. "He will be," she tells me, hugging me again.

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><p>The doctor comes out a few minutes later, her face grave. Bad news. My heart sinks, but I tell myself he's just in a coma or he's got a really bad broken leg. Bad news like that.<p>

That kind of news I can live with, 'cause he'll get better eventually. Carly squeezes my hand reassuringly.

The news isn't so great. I'd give up all the meat in the world to change what she'd just said. But I can't.

Freddie's gone.

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><p><strong>AN: This is my first story on here and it's gonna be multi-chapter.**

**Tell me what you think so far: REVIEW! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: don't usually update this fast but this chapter came really quickly and I'm going on holiday tomorrow so after that I won't update for at least a week. Enjoy the chapter!**

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><p>The funeral is stupid and I don't want to go, but Carly makes me anyways. She grabs my hand and drags me out of her apartment (I'm staying at her house, duh!) after forcing me to put on some 'acceptable funeral clothes' (apparently, sweats and a hoodie aren't 'appropriate'). So now I'm wearing a horrible, tight (Carly says 'cute', I say 'restraining') black dress, a dark coat that is apparantly fashionable but I think looks like someone died in it (oh god, every mention of death is making me feel teary now…) and killer (not in a good way, seriously, my feet are dying) heels, with my hair pulled back in a tight high-ponytail and 'subtle' make-up plastered all over my face, all so I can say goodbye to Freddie.<p>

Can't she see that I don't want to say goodbye to Freddie? If I say goodbye, it makes everything real, as if it isn't real enough already.

They cleared out his locker yesterday, at school. I watched from the door of a classroom, because I couldn't take my eyes off it. I could have sworn I could see _him_; taking his books out before we walked home, because he still actually brought them; telling me and Carly about the latest edition of the PearPod while I teased him about his nubbishness; or refusing to let me copy his homework (though he always gave in). All that's gone now and some other kid with braces and stupid hair will get it now. I'll never see Freddie again, leaning on it, talking on the phone with his mom to convince her that he was still alive after a day at the 'danger-zone' known as school.

_Still alive._ Oh god.

He hasn't been alive for a week and I've hated every second of it. Nightmares don't last this long and no matter how many times I've pinched myself, I haven't woken up yet. I know this is real and I hate it.

There's a lot of people at the funeral. Mrs Benson sits in the front row, next to a grey-haired man I can only assume is his dad. Funny, Freddie never mentioned him. Carly, Spencer and I sit in the second row, 'cause we're not family. Not that that should be important, Freddie was as good as family to all of us.

I see people I recognise from school as well, and some I didn't recognise but assumed were in our year. Some of the girls are crying and I frown. They didn't even know him.

Everyone tells me they're sorry. Sorry for what? They didn't kill him. A few people tell me they understand. I glare at them, because they don't. Mrs Benson comes over to me and hisses that it's my fault he's dead, 'cause I didn't stop him. I don't even shout at her, because a part of me – a big part of me – thinks she's right.

"Do you have your speech?" Carly whispers.

I nod slowly, but I'm still uncertain about it. She made me write it last night (she actually did most of the writing, I just agreed to whatever she suggested) and it's long and doesn't sound anything like me. It's not what I want to say at his funeral. I don't want to have to say anything.

The vicar drones on for a bit and then somebody calls Carly up to talk about Freddie. I don't even have the heart to refer to him by a nickname, that's how depressed I am.

She's shaking once she gets to the top, and I can see Spencer debating as to whether he should go up there or leave her. He doesn't move and she starts, her eyes fixed to the piece of paper in her hands.

"Freddie was one of my best friends." I can tell already that she's not going to make it through the whole speech. "H-he…" I didn't think she would break down so soon, though… Hmm. "He wasn't just our tech producer." _Way to be obvious, Carly._

My brain is too busy commenting on every part of her speech for me to notice the pair of dark eyes burning into my back. When I do see them, it's only for a second before they blink and are gone.

I shake it off and turn back to Carly. "He was thoughtful and kind and caring." Yada-yada. It's easier to forget she's talking about Freddie when I'm mocking the speech and easier to forget about Freddie when I'm mocking him… "I'll never know anyone quite like him." 'Cause he was such a nub. _Shut up brain!_ "And…" Ok, here it comes. Yep, she's crying at the front of the church and Spencer has finally gotten up and gone over to join her. He has her arm around her and she's sobbing into his shirt and I'm sitting there awkwardly, the only person left in our row.

I can feel everybody looking at me and I turn around to glare at the staring eyes. Yeah, Carly breaks down in tears and people look at _me_ like I'm some kind of freak show. Well, actually they're looking sympathetic and smiling creepily and stuff, but in my opinion that's worse.

I would scream at them, but I really haven't got the energy. I'm still too depressed to think straight.

I feel something on my shoulder and look around to see a lady I don't recognise smiling up at me encouragingly. She's wearing a pale grey skirt-suit and has her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looks relatively young, about the same age as Spencer. Her eyebrows are thin and arched high about her glassy grey eyes, her forehead creased with worry.

"Who are you?" I asked, glaring at her. _Go away! _I'm trying to tell her with my eyes.

"I'm Melissa Benson," she tells me quietly.

I stare at her blankly. "What?"

"Freddie's Aunt – Marissa's sister."

I continue to stare at her, a bit shocked at the interuption. "Melissa and Marissa. _That's_ normal," I say sarcastically.

She laughs uneasily. "Yeah. Um, you're being called up for your speech."

"Oh." That's pretty much all I can say. I'd completely forgotten about my speech up until now and the piece of paper lies forgotten in my coat pocket.

"Are you gonna…?"

I don't answer. Instead, I grip the piece of paper hard in my right hand and begin to walk unsteadily up the aisle towards the front where Carly is still standing, clasping a handkerchief and dabbing at the flow of tears cascading down her face. Her make-up is all smudged, exactly the reason I told her not to wear any, and I have a feeling mine is going to look the same in a few minutes, no matter how hard I try to stay… well, normal.

I always figured the first time I'm in this situation; walking up the aisle of a church with everybody's eyes on me, would be my wedding day. I never really thought about who would be waiting for me at the other end, but I never imagined it would be Freddie. And really, if you think about it, it is Freddie who is waiting for me, except he's in a coffin and instead of this being the happiest day of my life, the only time I've felt worse is when I found out that he was gone. Actually, scrap that, because now I feel worse, if that's even possible.

This makes it all real.

I reach the top and turn around to face the audience. They're scrutinizing me. They all know who I am; Sam Puckett, deliquent who doesn't care about anything or anyone. Sometimes, I wish they were right.

_Say something! _My brain is yelling at me, but all I can hear is Freddie's stupid voice, ringing in my ears, saying all the pointless and stupid things that I snubbed him about at the time but are now almost bringing me to tears.

I look down at the words written down on the scrap of paper Carly gave me this morning. I watched her write it and now I feel like her swirly handwriting is staring at me, daring me to chicken out.

I clear my throat and begin.

"Freddie was a, er, really good friend of mine," I say, spouting out these words that don't sound like me at all. "He was always there for me." I pause, scanning the crowd for Carly and Spencer. I find them and they're staring up at me just like everybody else, but I can see understanding – proper understanding, not 'I'm-gonna-pretend-I-understand-but-I-really-don't' – and it's comforting that I'm not the only one missing Freddie.

"He was really good at being our iCarly tech producer. He always made sure each episode was fun and memorable. I have a lot of memories with Freddie that I'll treasure forever. He was a great guy." Ok, where is this coming from? I mean, I know it's what's written on the paper, but this isn't what I want to be saying. It sounds like Carly, but it's more like I'm reading out what she decided wasn't good enough to be included in her speech. Or maybe I'm repeating what she couldn't read. I read the next line and my voice is flat and emotionless, "I'll miss him." I can see people judging me already, but what do they know? They can think I'm heartless all they want, their best friend hasn't been killed.

I freeze. I've never called him my best friend before. Why do I have to realise stuff like that when its too late. Yeah, he was my best friend. But he'll never know that, and I'll never know if he felt the same.

Carly smiles at me encouragingly, urging me to finish, but I can't. Not 'cause I'm crying, though I want to. But because of the speech – it's crap.

So I do what I have to do and I rip it up, to the shock of pretty much everyone there. "You know what?" I say slowly. "I don't even want to be at this stupid funeral! I don't want to talk about how great Freddie _was._" I put emphasis on the past tense in the word because that's what makes it so _horrible._ "None of you were there when he was hit by that stupid car! None of you saw him lying on the road and just stood there feeling so _helpless_! And it's so unfair. He's dead because some idiot was too impatient to wait for the traffic lights to change. Life's not meant to be like that. I don't want to hear people tell me they're sorry. I don't want to "say goodbye properly." I don't want 'help and support'. I just want Freddie back!"

There's silence. I don't look at anyone before I storm out of the church and it isn't a dramatic diva-esque storm out. I feel like I'm running away. Actually, I know I'm running away and it's because I don't want anybody to see me cry.

I hate crying, but I have tear ducts so it's got to happen sometimes. And I think (though I'm still not completely there with admitting it) that Freddie is worth crying over.

I sit down on a bench around the back, hoping that nobody will come after me, and I sob into the skirt of the dress. I idly wonder how much Carly likes it, 'cause I'm probably gonna end up ruining it. Then I decide that doesn't matter and carry on crying, trying to get all the tears over with before it's over.

"Crying, Puckett?" I hear Freddie's familiar voice and lift my head up, staring around wildly for the speaker. Maybe he has an identical voice-twin? I wonder, trying not to get my hopes up, but my heart has other ideas, jumping wildly around in my chest.

He's sitting on the wall, his feet swinging down as he smiles at me and I swear my heart rate increases until it's going so fast I can no longer keep track of my own heartbeat.

"Freddie?"

He opens his mouth to answer when I hear Carly calling my name wildly and I look at the door of the church, distracted from what had to be a miracle. She runs over and pulls me into a crushing hug. It's like she's _trying_ to squeeze all the breath out of me, but I know Carly. She hasn't got a vicious bone in her body.

The second I wriggle out of her grip, the word vomit begins.

"Sam, oh Sam, are you ok? I had no idea you were so upset about this. Have you been crying? Do you want a tissue? I brought loads, 'cause I knew that I'd be crying and even Spencers been… but I didn't think you would… I know you miss him, so do I. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't–"

I interupt her, "Can you move? You're blocking my view."

She looks confused but does as I ask and I find myself staring at the empty wall, no sign of Freddie anywhere. I sigh heavily and put my head in my hands. I must be imagining things, or hallucinating.

"Are you ok?" she asks timidly.

"What do you think?" I snap.

Carly jumps a bit and stands up again. "Are you coming back inside?"

I contemplate whether to apologize for snapping at her or not, but decide that she made Freddie disappear, she deserves it for now. "No," I say bluntly. "Leave me alone."

She looks like she wants to say something else, but she knows me well enough to do what I say when I'm in this kind of mood, so she scurries back into the church, leaving me on my own again.

I look down at my hands. They're shaking so I sit on them, cursing the weather, because that has to be what's making me shiver, right? Stupid December for being so cold.

But I know that's not it.

I saw Freddie, and my eyes do not lie.

Should I be scared? I think maybe I should, but I'm not. I sink back against the wall and fall asleep, comforted by the breeze and the fact I can still feel a pair of chocolate brown eyes burning into my back.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm back! But I'm on holiday again for two weeks in a few days. I might upload again before, I might not. Depends how fast my creative juices are flowin' :) Here is the next chapter. It's quite sad, I think, and the first few chapters needed to be, but it's not gonna be like this through the whole story, although it is quite a sad story.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>It's Tuesday, just over a week since Freddie got hit last Sunday. I've taken to saying 'got hit' instead of… well, the other thing, because it's just easier. I can't explain why. I've accepted that he's gone, although accepted isn't really the right word. More like, I <em>know<em> he's gone – I'm not gonna go all stupid now and pretend he's just on holiday or something. But it doesn't hurt to try not to think about it (actually it does, it hurts all the time. But it hurts less, right?).

Carly has other ideas though.

Yes, I'm at her place. Do I even need to mention this? I'm over at hers more than I'm at my own house, and Spencer's more of a parent to me than my mom will ever be (and that's saying something, because seriously? Spencer, a father figure?).

Anyway, she's sitting on the couch, bawling her eyes out and sobbing something about Freddie that I can't understand. They make us learn stupid stuff like Maths and French at school (who knows why… If French people want to talk to mama, they can do it in English) but then completely ignore the more important stuff. Like how to deal with crying Carlys and dead Freddies (oh _shit, _I said it).

"S-sam!" Finally she's speaking English.

"What?" So there's a hint of annoyance in my voice? I think I'm allowed to snap at my best friend. My other best friend has just _died_ (I've kind of given up on not mentioning it).

"D-do you know what today is?"

I roll my eyes. "No, Carls. I have unexplainably forgotten the days of the week and have no idea that it is in fact Tuesday today." That also means school starts… _started _three hours ago. Oh well, since when have I cared about school?

_Since you realised you had to if you wanted to go to college near Carly and Freddie... _a voice in the back of my head says quietly. I would punch it if I could, mainly because I know it's right. In the few weeks before Freddie… (back to side-stepping it again), we all got to talking about college. I know it's a long time until we graduate (we aren't even in our senior year yet!) but both Carly and Freddie both have (_had…_ shit) everything planned out already. What college they want to go to, what grades they need to go there… and I have nothing. I don't even know what I wanna do with my life, which isn't a bad thing (in my opinion) but then Freddie had to go and point out that I'll be stuck in stupid Seattle all my life whilst they'll be up… wherever it is that they'll be. I'll end up like Mom, alone and drunk in a trailer park and no friends ('cause obviously I'd have touch with those two if they're in different states to me). Carly said that'll never happen, but what does Carly know? She's Carly: naïve and optimistic.

Which brings me back to the present, because naïve little Carly is still crying, except she's also now glaring at me judgingly for no reason at all except…

"It's Freddie's birthday today."

My eyes open wide and I'm pretty sure I look like a fish, opening and closing my mouth with no words coming out. Truthfully, I'm furious with myself. How could I forget? Admittedly I've been distracted by… do I even need to say what? I don't want to, either way. The point is, I'm angry. And so is Carly, from the look on her face. She's even stopped crying…

Shit, shit, and shit.

"W-what?" Now I'm the one stuttering, the one close to tears.

I haven't cried since the funeral (which was only three days ago, so not a massive achievement) because I haven't let myself think about anything that would make me cry. Although I've just spent a while talking about Freddie, it's not quite the same as _thinking _about him. Hmm… maybe I'm the only one who understands that logic.

"You forgot?" Carly's voice has risen about an octave and if it gets any higher, only dogs will be able to understand what she's saying. And I don't speak dog, so I won't be able to find out.

"Well, what with the funeral and everything…" I trailed off, nervously watching Carly for her inevitable reaction.

"How could you forget?"

I freeze. Suddenly her voice is soft and quiet, barely more than a whisper. No tantrum, no shrieking, no shouting, no tears. Just big brown eyes staring regretfully up at me from the couch.

No, no, _no._ This is not right…

"I just…"

She rises from the couch slowly, and now I'm the one who has to look up at her. Only slightly, but it's enough to make me feel intimidated. And I _never_ feel intimidated, not even by the six foot three jocks that I give wedgies to, and especially not by Carly, who is anything but intimidating.

"How could you forget?" she repeats, and she's scaring me now. "Do you not care that Freddie's dead?" Now her voice is slightly higher, slightly raised, and it's even worse than her yelling or the whisper.

"Of course I care."

But now I'm fighting back tears, because I know it probably doesn't seem like I care. I haven't been to his grave yet, and I know that almost everyone from school has, even people who didn't know his name before last Monday, when I heard Principal Franklin told the whole school what had happened (I wasn't there, I skipped school, but not for my usual reasons). I don't talk about it, unlike Carly, who is sobbing to somebody about it every time I see her at school.

I avoid her now, at school. I'm still over at hers all the time, like always, but only 'cause seeing Mom is still much worse. I never cry (in front of anybody, anyway) and I never let myself look sad (though I'm never smiling either) and I didn't go to the memorial that was held at school yesterday for him (because I knew it would be just as bad as the funeral). And now Carly, along with everybody else, thinks its because I don't care.

It's what I want everyone to think, but why does it hurt so much that they do?

"You haven't said one word to me since the funeral, except to ask for food," Carly continues.

Again, I'm doing the fish-face.

"Have you even been to see his grave?" She glares accusingly at me.

There's a long, uncomfortable silence. I sink down slowly, onto the couch. "Carly, I'm so sorry –" I begin. A tear slips out of my eye and I wipe it away angrily.

Carly's face softens and she gives me a quick hug. She takes a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said about you not caring. I know you do care, really."

I want to deny it, but I don't say anything.

Carly hugs me again, and this time she doesn't let go, and I don't try and wriggle out of it. "Sam, I know you're hurting. I saw you at the funeral, remember? And so did everyone else. I know you loved him. I know he was your best friend too, Sam."

"I forgot his birthday," is all I can say, and I hate myself for it all over again. How could I forget? How? "I'm a terrible person."

"No you're not," Carly says and I wish I could believe her. "I nearly forgot myself, I only remembered when I saw the date circled on my calendar."

I look up at her, and I can see that she's lying. I would know even if I didn't know she doesn't have a calendar. I would yell at her for lying, except I know she's trying to make me feel better and for some reason, that makes it alright.

"Have you…?" I try not to think about what I'm asking.

"I went this morning. It's really not that bad."

"So that's why your eyes are all red and puffy, and I found you curled up crying on here this morning?" I say sarcastically.

Carly laughs, a weak, shaky laugh that sounds forced and makes me want to join her in crying. But I'm Sam Puckett, I don't cry.

"Are you going to…?" It's her turn to question me and I hear the hesitation in her voice.

"I don't know."

"You really should."

"I know."

We sit there in silence for a few minutes: Carly, sobbing silently into a tissue, which looks like it's just been run over by a car, in the rain, in the middle of a snow storm; and me, trying to work up the courage to go to the graveyard. Since when have I needed to find courage?

_Since Freddie died._

Shut up, voice. Am I going crazy? Is that what happens when you lose someone, you start hearing voices in your head? I hope not. The last thing I need right now is to go crazy.

I stand up and look down at Carly, giving her a brief attempt at a smile. A failed attempt, obviously, from the look of sympathy on her face.

"You're –?"

"Going."

* * *

><p>The graveyard is empty. It's such a stereotypical day for visiting a graveyard, actually. A cold, invisible breeze tugging at my hair and clothes, scattering the brown and gold leaves along the concrete path. Deathly silence… always wondered where that came from, but now I can really see it. It's unnerving. The sky is bleak and grey and it looks like it's gonna rain, but it won't. Hopefully.<p>

It doesn't take me long to find Freddie's grave. The thousands of flowers piled around the headstone are a _dead_ giveaway (shut up, brain), even though they've pretty much buried the inscription on the headstone. I look down sadly. Would Freddie really want this? He was never really a flowers kind of person, despite my constant jabs at his masculinity saying otherwise. He would probably have prefered people leaving Galaxy Wars figurines for him. Stupid Nub.

I can tell which flowers are Carly's, even though there's no note. White lilies, bound with a black ribbon. Very striking, very pretty, very Carly. But, for once, I'm not jealous of her and her probably-expensive, nice-looking flowers. I've never needed flowers to show anyone I care, and if Freddie knew me, he'd know that the fact I'm here is enough. And Freddie knew me. I know that.

I brush a bunch of roses to the side, and I prick myself several times with the thorns and curse at the blood, but now I can see the inscription.

_Fredward Karl Benson_

_February 4__th__ 1994 – January 26__th__ 2011_

_R.I.P_

All I can think as I look at it is how much I wish it said 'Freddie' instead.

But that's not why I came here, so I sit down and force myself to stare straight at his name. Fredward. Three years ago, that name was gold to me. I mean, how can you expect me _not_ to bully someone whose name is Fredward? Except, to me, despite the fact I've never ever called him it (except on special occasions), he's always been Freddie.

Which is why I make sure the first thing I say is, "Hey, Freddie."

Nothing. Was I expecting a reply? I don't know. Was I hoping for a reply? Maybe.

"Umm… I don't really know… what to say. I mean, you can't even hear me." Am I really doing this right now? He can't hear you, Sam! Gah, talking to myself never worked before. "Well, I guess I came to say Happy Birthday. I think. I mean, I think it's your birthday. It is your birthday, but I can't say 'Happy Seventeenth Birthday' 'cause you're not. I don't think you are, anyway. Actually, maybe you are, because you sort of are… seventeen now. I think. I don't know!" I stop, 'cause I'm not even making sense to myself anymore. Then I start again, because I still have a lot to say, even if it comes out sounding like I'm speaking a different language. Maybe I should say it in Italian… or Spanish, after all, Freddie can speak it too. But he's not listening… Ugh. I really am going crazy.

"I watched this film once," I continue. I know I sound like an idiot, and I'm practically talking to myself, but on the plus side, I'm talking to myself. No one around to listen, no one around to know what an idiot I'm being. "There was a ghost. She – or he, I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention – was, like, stuck. As a fifteen year old forever, 'cause she – or he! – couldn't grow up. I wonder if that's what you're like, even though you're actually dead and in the real world and stuff. Not that she wasn't dead, but… My point is, are you seventeen? Or will you always be sixteen?"

I take a deep breath and try to continue. "Not that that really matters. I just… I guess it's weird to think I'll be growing up without you." No! I am _not_ crying now. "I mean, what if I come back here in ten years?" Since when did I look that far ahead it to the future? "Will you be twenty-seven then, or still sixteen? It's weird, I never really thought about us, in the future, but I can't imagine it without you. How weird is that? I can't live without you, Freddie, and I only realise that when you're dead…"

Shit, the waterworks are coming.

Tear after tear trails down my face slowly and I thank whoever is up _there_ that Carly didn't attack me with her make-up kit this morning. I don't need any assistance in looking like a wreck, and black goop streaking down my cheeks is definitely what I class as assistance.

"Um…" Come on, I know words, right? Why is it that I keep forgetting how to speak English? I'm gonna need to start carrying a dictionary around with me, just so I can speak in normal sentences. Actually, on second thoughts, I'd rather just not speak at all…

"I have to, er, go now." When I get back home (Carly's) I'm shredding every dictionary I find, just so I'm never, _ever_ tempted to use one. "Bye, Freddie. And… Happy Birthday."

I begin to walk away, not letting myself look back because I'm suddenly finding that it's even harder to leave than to go. But when I reach the gate, I let myself have one last look.

The grave is still there, of course, surrounded by all the flowers. I didn't bring flowers. That, I think, makes me more special than the hundred others who did.

Slipping through the gate, I spare him yet another glance. It is him, after all, who I'm looking at this time. Not the stone, not the flowers, _him._

"Happy Seventeenth."

I could swear I heard him say, "You too, Puckett."

But maybe I am just going crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

"…_and now it's time for… Random Dancing!"_

_Music blares out from invisible speakers in the background and Carly and I throw ourselves into our dancing, limbs flailing, hair flying and big grins plastered over our faces. The sound of Freddie laughing quietly to himself as he films it is like a melody in itself, the sound familiar and comforting._

_The music stops quickly and Carly and I adopt serious expressions on our flushed faces. We look like hedgehogs, our hair sticking our in odd places from the head banging we've been doing, like spikes._

"_And now ends another episode of iCarly," Carly says, her voice a monotone._

"_But before we go, we have some sad news for you," I add, my voice equally flat._

"_This could be the end of iCarly!" Carly wails._

"_Because Carly's brains have been eaten by nerd-zombies!" I yell._

"_Nerd zombies?" Freddie says incredulously from behind the camera, and I smack him on the shoulder, beginning to say something to him, which Carly interrupts._

"_And Sam has caught flumobongiparpidooble disease!"_

"_It's very serious," I tell the iCarly audience._

"_Until next time!" Carly smiles, jumping up and down._

"_See ya!"_

"_Bye!"_

"_Auf wiedersehen!"_

"_Bonjour!"_

_There's a nervous cough from Freddie behind the camera. "Er, Carly, that's hello…"_

"_Yes, Carly knows that Freddork," I say sarcastically, sticking out my tongue at him and then smiling despite myself at his off-camera reaction._

"_But now we really have to go."_

"_Don't cry!"_

"_We'll be back next week with more awesomeness, coming from me and Carlaaay, of course."_

"_Sam! Remember what we talked about!" Carly whispers, nudging me in the side._

_I roll my eyes, and Freddie and I share a smile, then address the viewers again, "And Freddork will be here too… unfortunately. Although luckily for you, you won't have to see his ugly nerd-face."_

"_Sam!" Carly pouts at me, but Freddie and I are both laughing by now and Carly quickly joins in, and that's when I know that –_

"Sam?"

I press pause on the remote and look away from the TV for the first time in hours, up at my best friend, who is standing over me with a disapproving frown on her face. It's pretty much all Carls has been doing lately. When she's not at school, she's lecturing me on how I _should_ be at school or how I should be 'getting on with my life'. Constantly hovering over me, and it's making it impossible to form a clear thought in my head without getting distracted by Carly bringing me some toast or a sandwich. She's been bringing me so much food that I'm not even hungry anymore! Can you imagine that? Sam Puckett, full!

The worst part is that, with her always there, I haven't even had a chance to cry. I don't cry, it's one of my few principles, but for some reason my body has other ideas, and keeps threatening to turn me into a sappy freak any second.

"Whaddayawant?" I ask grumpily, the words coming out slurred and mixed together in my exhaustion. Lack of sleep does strange things to a person's head and I wouldn't be surprised if I start hallucinating in a few minutes. I haven't been sleeping at all lately, and instead of getting better (apparently it's supposed to, according to Carly) it's just been getting worse.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Huh?"

Carly gestures to the TV screen, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows creased in a mixture of worry and irritation. She's reminding me slightly of Mrs Briggs in a temper, which is a scary thought, because Mrs Briggs is a middle-aged freakazoid who smells like a public toilet.

"Watching old iCarly videos. You're just making yourself more upset about Freddie."

"I'm not upset," I lie. It comes easily to me, like shoplifting and beating up nerds. I never had to learn how to be a good liar (or take _any_ fighting classes), I was born with the talents. Which is quickly becoming even more useful that it was before, because Carly is like the freakin' Spanish inquisition!

"You look like a zombie," Carly informs me, and I'm not sure whether this is her changing the subject or not.

"Gee, thanks, you really know how to make me feel better," I say sarcastically, staring at her defiantly.

"So you admit you were feeling bad?" she says hopefully, wincing slightly for some reason. It comes out as more of a question than a statement, and for a moment I feel as if Carly, for the first time in our long and complex best-friendship, is scared of me.

"No," I snap, and it sounds harsh and bitter and everything that I'm feeling right now, and it's not even an answer to just that question. I'm telling her _no._ To everything.

She sighs and decides to try a different tact. "You haven't washed your hair in a week, it's the middle of the afternoon and you're still in your pyjamas, there are bags under your eyes that make you look like a panda, and you've obviously been crying. Besides, you haven't been to school since… ugh!"

"It's Monday," I say emotionlessly. "I've only skipped five days of school, including this one. And I haven't been crying, I'm just tired."

"Then go to sleep. Please, Sam, I'm worried about you," says Carly reasonably. Stupid Carly and her reasonableness.

"Go away."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Carly comes and sits down next to me. "I know what you're going through –"

"Do you?" I interrupt her, avoiding eye contact with Carly and instead glaring at my feet.

"Freddie was my best friend too."

I take a deep breath and mutter, "He was never my best friend." Carly jumps about a mile into the air, her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging. She would look comical if this was any other situation, and I wasn't sure that she was going to try and kill me for what I've just said… and what I'm about to say.

"What!"

"Just give it a rest, Carly."

"You just said Freddie wasn't your best friend!"

"Well done, you're not deaf."

"But what about all the stuff you said to me last week? The funeral… and you went to his grave!" Carly looks baffled now, and I don't really blame her. It's funny really, that she can't completely see through my lie, but one of the few things about Carly that irritates me is that she can be so wrapped up in her own little Carly sometimes that she barely notices what's going on about her.

Freddie and I always fought. Right up until the moment he died. Sometimes, if I called his girlfriend a particularly well thought up nickname, or if he was stupid enough to try and talk to me about my mother, then it really got serious, but most of the time it was just _us_. But, for some reason, Carly could never see that (and probably still can't) and as we got older, she got even more wound up about our constant bickering.

Don't get me wrong, she knows Freddie and I cared about each other (I still do, even though he's technically gone), she just never understood our relationship. That there are so many times when we've been there for each other that she doesn't even know about, and that when I hit Freddie it was no longer _bullying_, because he was strong enough to fight back, if he'd wanted to.

But there were things I hated about Freddie too. How he never listened when I told him that his latest girlfriend (he hadn't had all that many, but they've all been stupid) was a bitch, how he knew all that stuff about my mom that even Carly doesn't know because she'll be too over-sympathetic about it, how he was so pathetically in love with Carly (even if he wasn't showing it so much, I bet he still was), how he was such a nerd, how he let me wind him up and let me cloud his judgement. And how, when he told me he hated me, sometimes it felt like he really meant it.

And that is why Carly is annoying me so much right now. It's like because he's dead, I'm supposed to forget all the stupid things about him that annoyed me so much. I'm supposed to act like our relationship was all rainbows and smiles, and forget the fact that sometimes, it was as if we were thirteen again and I felt like I really did hate him (even though I'm not sure I ever really did) and how he was the only person who could ever really make me cry.

Everyone seems to be doing that, which is why I'm not going to school.

"You and Freddie were so close, I feel so sorry for you."

"It must be so hard, to lose your best friend."

"I know he loved you Sam, don't forget that."

I just want to scream at them. To wipe the sympathetic looks off everybody's faces and make them believe that I don't care. But more than that, I just want to scream. Yeah, maybe I loved Freddie. But he didn't love me. I made his life hell, even if he let me. I broke his stuff, I got him into trouble – he got detention because of me, for goodness sake! But most of all, it's my fault he's dead. If I hadn't been winding him up, if I hadn't made him mad, then he wouldn't have walked ahead, he would have still been with me, and we would have walked home to Carly's casually and everything would be fine right now. And even if he had, he would have been looking when he crossed the road and he would have seen that stupid car…

"Sam…?" Carly's voice brings me back to reality and I glare at her.

"Leave me alone."

"I know you're still grieving, but is this what Freddie would have wanted? He would have wanted you to move on, get on with your life, go to school. Not hang around here all day, watching iCarly in your pyjamas, barely moving."

"You don't know what Freddie wanted."

"He was my best friend… I know he loved you, and so do I, so please don't do this to yourself."

"He didn't love me. He hated me."

"You know that's not true."

"No I don't."

"Sam…"

I stand up and stride over to the doorway. I'm sick of Carly going on about what Freddie would or wouldn't have wanted, about the 'grieving process', about how she's there for me and whatnot.

"Carly, I'm leaving," I tell her, without looking at her, as I open the door and step out into the hallway. Relief fills me, and I don't care that Mrs Benson just hurried past me and into the lift, looking at me like I was somehow contagious, and I don't care that Carly is shouting after me. No one can tell me what to do, and I don't need to do what Carly wants, or what Freddie wanted (which is a good thing, since I have no idea what that was), or even what my stupid drunk mom wants.

"Sam, wait! Where are you going?"

"I dunno. Anywhere."

"Anywhere?"

"Yeah. I'm _sick _of you constantly badgering me, you won't leave me alone! So, for once, can you just accept that I'm not like you? I'm not gonna cry and cry to my friends, and then try and put a brave face on everything and go to school and do _work._"

Carly's crying now. Hardly, but there are still a few stray tears rolling down her perfect face. How come, even after hours of crying, Carly still looks like she's stepped out of Vogue magazine (I don't _read_ it, I've just seen it a couple times in Carly's room).

"You don't have to pretend to me. You can cry if you want to, I won't judge you," she pleads. For a moment, I'm almost tempted by the offer, but then I decide against it.

"I'm not pretending," I say viciously, hissing like a snake. "If you want to go crying to Spencer and Wendy and all those other stupid people at school, then that's up to you. I don't need or want to cry. I don't care. I just need to go somewhere where nobody is crying or trying to make me cry, ok?"

Carly doesn't nod. She doesn't say anything, so I walk slowly down the hallway and into the lift. I press a few buttons, and, muffled by the sound of the elevator, I hear the door of the Shay's apartment slam shut. Yeah, the Shay's apartment.

It doesn't really feel like my home any more.

* * *

><p>I go to the park.<p>

It's probably not the best place to go when I'm in this kind of mood, but whatever. It's empty and hopefully it will remain that way for as long as I need it too. If not, I have plenty of ways to get people to go away… and probably never come back.

I sit on the swing set, swinging back and forth slowly, my head rested against the chain. It's so stupid that I almost laugh, because it's something I've seen in a thousand different movies, the only different being that it's fake and the actress sitting pouting on the leather seat is beautiful and obviously not really that upset because she still manages to have immaculate make-up and not a hair out of place. The bush on top of _my_ head, right now, is really the least of my worries. I don't laugh, though, because I might just have forgotten how.

So I'm sitting and swinging.

Nothing much really to say or do. Maybe I should start singing, turn my life into a depressing musical… ha ha. Storming out of Carly's place probably wasn't my best decision. She'll be properly panicking by now, though she won't have called the police because she's not that stupid. Though, surprisingly, what bothers me most is that I'm cold and the swing isn't as comfy as the Shay's couch.

Hmm… my bum hurts. I might be getting frostbite. I should have brought a coat, or a dressing gown, or even just a blanket. I'm already a zombie in pyjamas, what have I really got to lose?

Well, I guess I have Carly. I'll go round to hers and try to make things up with her later. Or I won't. Depends really. She'll still be annoying, and I'll still get annoyed. But I can't go home, so she's really my only hope. And, I'm not gonna be stupid and stop being friends with her. I hope not, at least… Maybe I pushed her too much. Maybe she won't want me back. No, she will. She definitely will. She's Carly, after all. She's too worried about me to hate me. So, yeah. I'll deal with that later. Tomorrow or something.

Thinking about Carly leads me to thinking about Freddie, so I quickly look around to find something else to focus on.

There's a slide and some monkey bars on the other side of the park. It looks like it was built for hobbits or, as is more likely, small children. Not my kind of thing, either way.

Even so, it might gimme something to do. I walk over to it, circling it and eyeing it up and down. It's pretty run-down – graffiti covering the metal sides and dirt tracks all the way up the slide. The kind Mom really digs.

I climb up the side where there's a tiny climbing wall with footholds that were definitely designed for the tiny feet of infants. I manage to haul myself up onto the roof anyway, and position myself so I sitting cross-legged on the thin strip that makes up the top. On either side of me the yellow metal slants downwards, and if Carly were here then she'd probably be freaking out, squealing about how I'll fall or something. But I feel perfectly safe up here, safer than I often do on the hard ground, and I can see for miles. It feels like miles anyway, but even though this is a lot higher than most kiddie parks go, it probably isn't.

Hesitantly, but confidently, I get up and then I'm standing on top of the roof, my arms spread out straight and my feet planted firmly down on the metal. Right now, I feel like I could fly – just leap straight out into the thin air and swoop down to the ground without getting hurt. Like I'm indestru–

"You're not indestructible, Puckett," says a familiar voice, and I'm so surprised that I wobble. My wobble leads to a slip, and then a full on fall, and even though I manage to hook my arms over the top of the roof, I can't hold on. So I plummet towards the ground, but just before I'm sure I'm gonna hit the ground, I feel strong arms wrap around my waist and set me down gently just beside the structure.

I take a few deep breaths to calm my heart rate, and to give me time to convince myself I really am being stupid, and then I look up and my breath catches in my throat. Maybe my exhaustion is making me hallucinate.

There's no other way I could be face to face with Fredward Benson right now, is there?

"Freddie?" I murmur. God, if I'm imagining this…

"Hmm," he says, and I've never felt so physically weak (seriously, I could faint any second), "I kind of prefer Freddork."

I groan.

"Feeling alright?" he asks, and even though he looks concerned, he's smiling.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I'm finally able to say.

"Saving your life," he tells me casually.

"I wouldn't have died," I tell him, still in a state of shock. "I was only about two or three metres from the ground."

He shrugs. "So maybe I just wanted to see you. What's wrong with that?"

"Other than the fact that you're _dead_?" I say incredulously.

"That didn't stop me before."

"At the funeral?"

"You saw me?"

"Yeah, but I thought I was imagining it," I say slowly. I think I'm getting a headache. "Am I hallucinating right now?"

Freddie laughs. Thinking about him, in present tense, as in, being here, _now_, feels so weird. Not wrong exactly, it actually makes me feel better than I have in ages, which is even worse actually because when it turns out that I am just imagining him, I'll fall even harder. So I get up and start to walk away.

I hear him run after me. I thought ghosts were meant to be… well, not _there_. Like, shouldn't I be able to put my hand through his middle and weird stuff like that. If he is a ghost, which he isn't, he's just a figment of my imagination. So he shouldn't be making noise, right? But he caught me… I can't deny that. I definitely did not hit the ground in the way I should, and I feel fine (well, physically fine, apart from being a little shaky). I don't even have a sprained ankle or anything. Which doesn't make sense.

"Sam! Wait!"

I turn around. "Are you a ghost?"

He stops running, but I stopped before him so now we're literally face to face. If I leaned any closer, our noses would be touching, and if I leaned any closer than that then we'd be kissing. But I can't kiss him, he's dead. Not to mention he's Freddie, of course…

I shut my eyes briefly as I feel him take my hand in his, and when I look back up at him, he's looking down at it, running his thumb slowly over the back of it, making me shiver.

"Freddie," I whisper, and he looks back at me, straight into my eyes. He's a little pale, but apart from that he looks like he always did. Black t-shirt and jeans, with grubby trainers (he'd been caring less and less about the state of his clothes as we got closer) and his short hair messy and all over the place. "Are you a ghost?" I ask again, my voice hushed so he can only just hear.

I don't know what to think when he says, "I don't know," his eyes never leaving mine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I couldn't really decide where to end this chapter but I hope I've left it at the right place. I would have ended it earlier, but since I'll be away for a while (two weeks, I think) I made it a bit longer.**

**It might seem strange that Sam is crying to Carly one minute, then yelling at her the next, but it's Sam and she's grieving and she's also quite conflicted about everything, so I hope that's understandable in the story.**

**Anyway, interesting finish, huh? What do you think, is Freddie a ghost or something else...?**

**Reviews are much appreciated, they make me smile :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry I haven't updated in ages, I've been on holiday for ages, so I hope this chapter makes up for it.**

* * *

><p>I bang on Carly's door with my fist, screaming her name. "Carly! Carly! Get out here, right now!"<p>

From the inside of the apartment I can hear her footsteps on the stairs and her voice, shrill but muffled, yelling something at Spencer. I glance backwards at Freddie, who is leaning against his front door and looking at me with a worried expression.

"Sam, are you sure this is a good –"

"Yes!" I snap, turning back to the door and trying to look through the peephole. "Why? Don't you want to see her or something?"

Freddie sighs. "I do want to see her, but don't you think she's gonna completely freak out? I mean – you didn't exactly react calmly in the –"

I shoot him a death glare and he stops talking.

"Carly!"

The door opens and I'm faced with Carly. Just seeing her reminds me why she got me so mad in the first place. Whilst I'm still in my pyjamas with my hair all over the place, she looks perfect as always, and I bet that right now Freddie is drooling so much that he'll flood Bushwell.

"Sam? D'you…" She falters. "Do you know what time it is?"

I look around for the clock in her apartment, and see that it says, '11.30pm'. I hadn't realised how long I'd been out with Freddie, just sitting there and trying to process everything. To be fair to him, he hadn't spoken to me at all, just sat there and waited until I jumped up and decided to go to Carly's and 'introduce' Freddie.

"Sorry…" I say quietly, wondering when she'll notice Freddie. Before I can say anything, Carly bursts into tears and pulls me into a tight, bone crushing hug, burying her head into my shoulder and soaking my t-shirt with wet, salty tears.

I glance at Freddie again over my shoulder to check that he's still there, which he is, looking like he thinks what I'm doing is the opposite of a good idea. Which he told me on the way, several times.

What really bothers me is that he just showed up at the funeral, and at the graveyard, and at the park, with no concern for my feelings at all, but he cares about how Carly will feel if she sees him. He doesn't want her to be _upset_, he doesn't want her to _freak out,_ but it's ok if _I'm _torturing myself about all this.

Carly finally releases me, and looks up, wiping tears from her eyes. Even with smudged mascara on her cheeks, she still looks a hundred times better than me when I'm not a wreck.

"Oh my god, Sam! I was so scared! I mean, what if you'd been hit by a car, like Freddie, or something? I can't deal with one of my best friends being dead, imagine if you died too!"

I really hadn't thought about it like that, even though I think she's overreacting. "Carly, I wasn't going to die."

"How do you _know_ that? Freddie probably would have said exactly the same thing before he…" She sniffs and begins to cry again.

That reminds me that Freddie is there, so I take a step back from Carly and stand next to Freddie. She's still wiping her eyes, so I take the chance to look up at him, see if he still looks as annoyed as he did before.

"I'm still not sure about this…" he says.

I glare at him. "Well, tough. Carly would freak out if she knew I was hiding you from her," I tell him.

Part of me kind of wants to keep him to myself, just for a while. To have something that Carly doesn't know about, that Carly doesn't have too. I've always had to compete with Carly for attention from everybody, most of the reason why I fought with Freddie in the first place. It isn't really anymore, it's just become our thing, but it still feels like he cares more about her when she's in the room. It always has.

"But she'll be really –"

"Shut up!" I snap, louder than I'd meant to. Carly looks up and stares at me in shock.

"B-but I d-didn't say anything…"

Oh great, she's getting like _that_ now. "I, er… I wasn't talking to you."

She raises her eyebrows. "Then…"

I stare at her. Her eyes are fixated on me, and I'm right next to Freddie, who looks just as confused as I am. _Why can't she see him?_

"Er, Carly?"

"What?"

"Can you see Freddie?" I blurt out suddenly, then cover my mouth with my hand, shocked that I just said it.

Carly looks at me like I'm crazy, which doesn't exactly make me feel better about my several 'I am crazy' theories. "What?" she repeats, her voice rising an octave.

I groan and lean against the door. "Can you see Freddie?"

"Are you making a joke, 'cause it's not funny," Carly say shrilly.

"I'm not joking!" I tell her indignantly. "Are you?"

Carly's glaring at me now. "Stop it."

"But I –"

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" She's freaking out now, even more than she might have if she could see Freddie. Unless she can, and she is making a joke and I just don't get it, and, apparantly, neither does Freddie.

"What is she doing?" he hisses, leaning down so he's talking straight into my ear.

"I dunno," I mutter, out of the corner of my mouth.

Carly finally comes down and stares at me, kind of scarily. "What is your problem, Sam?" she whispers. "Do you want everyone to hate you?"

I blink.

"You spent a week lying on my couch, doing nothing, and I was ok with that, because you were upset, even though I've had to go to school every single day and I've had to deal with everyone asking, 'Where's Sam?' 'Why do you look so sad?' and aaarrgh!"

I have never seen her freak out like this before. I always figured Carly was the kind of person who told everybody everything without thinking at all, but I guess she's been keeping everything from me for the last week.

"Spencer keeps tellin' me that I have to go out and go to school, but you just get to laze around, like you always do."

I feel like I've been mentally slapped, which is far worse than somebody _actually _doing it because I can take physical hits. I'm Sam Puckett.

"And now what? You just tryin' to mess around? Pretend he's still there so that you feel better? Is that all you care about?"

I feel Freddie take my hand and squeeze it. I had completely forgotten he was there until then.

Carly opens the door again and steps back inside. "You know what? Just come back when you've grown up."

Then she slams the door.

* * *

><p>We're on the fire escape. It's kind of <em>our<em> place and since Carly doesn't seem too keen to hang out with me anymore, it's just me and Freddie. This feels like the only place I can be, because I'm so used to Carly not being here anyway that it doesn't feel weird. Or at least, it feels less weird than it would somewhere else. I've spent hours out here, late at night, talking to Freddie about whatever comes up.

"I'm sorry about Carly."

I shrug, trying to pretend I'm not bothered by it. "It's ok. She'll get over it."

There's an awkward silence as both of us try to find something else to talk about other than the very prominent fight that's still on our minds.

Finally, Freddie says, "Are _you_ ok?"

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask.

"Fine."

"Fine."

There's another uncomfortable silence.

"What does it feel like, being dead?"

He laughs, even though it isn't funny. "I dunno. Right now, it just feels average, except I feel kind of cold all the time, like I'm wearing really light clothes and there's loads of cold wind and stuff."

"Hmm. Interesting. What about dying? What does that feel like?"

"Do you really want to know?"

I think about it for a second, and then nod.

Freddie shrugs. "I can't really remember. Kind of like I was knocked out and then I just woke up and I was in the bushes in the park, and then you came out, and then Carly and since then I've kind of just wandered around."

"Uhuh."

"I went home, actually. My key was in my pocket when I died, so I still have stuff like that. I wanted to see Mom, see how she was doing."

I nod to him, even though he's not looking at me and can't see. I can understand why he'd go and do that. She's crazy, but that doesn't change the fact she's his mom. It's the same with my mom. Despite all the alcohol and drugs and guys and overall neglect, I'd still be devastated if she died or something. It's one of the rare things that Carly will never understand about both of us.

"And then?"

"She just couldn't see me."

"What d'you –" I started but Freddie interupted me.

"I tried talking to her and everything, but it was like she was ignoring me."

I paused, wondering if he'd got what I'd just got, but he had stopped.

So I said slowly, "So, that means, I'm the only person who can see you?"

The look in his eyes told me that I was right.


End file.
